


Forged by Fire

by Stratagem



Series: Razor Forge [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, bunch of fluff, it's a big found family, the Mandalorian adopts all the foundlings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stratagem/pseuds/Stratagem
Summary: The story of how the Mandalorian accidentally created his own found family by adopting a passel of foundlings.
Series: Razor Forge [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576849
Comments: 16
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will probably be told partially in flashbacks and whatnot, and I might do a few short story pieces along the way. But yeah, adopt all the kids!!

As he charged up the stairs two at a time, the Mandalorian clunking along behind him, Hawke had intense realization that this job was way more than he had bargained for. A laser bolt scorched the wall where his head had been as he turned the corner on the landing. Oh, mhmm, Mando owed him.

Hawke needed the money. Tashre was a hard planet to live on, what with half the world having been decimated in a civil war a century ago by the war-happy population, but Hawke made it work. He helped off-worlders get around, avoided the gangs of other street-kids, and kept his cyberparts working with the money he made from the off-worlders.

For the last couple days, he had played tour guide to the Mandalorian. He had shown him safe places to eat where the people probably wouldn’t poison him, found him a motel to sleep in where he was less likely to get killed by the staff, and talked the Fallen Few out of trying to take him on. The guy had been scary quiet the whole time, only asking a few questions like where his parents were (dead, duh) and how he knew so much about the city (living there had that effect) and if he could be a guide (obviously, for a price).

So, sure. Yeah, Hawke had offered to show the Mandalorian the city and help him find some kind of target he was looking for by taking him to the Roratan Club and acting as a look-out, but he hadn’t planned on getting shot at _this_ much.

“What did you do to them?!” Hawke yelled back at The Mandalorian as they hurled themselves up the stairs.

The armored man reached out, grabbed his head, and gently but quickly turned him so he was looking ahead again. “Keep running.”

“No kidding,” Hawke grumbled.

The two of them raced up the stairs, dodging blaster bolts from the club members who were chasing them. Hawke winced as a red bolt skittered over the stairs and exploded against the wall, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“You know this is going to dead end at the roof, right?” Hawke panted, skipping over a stair step that already had a hole in it. Maybe this was a common occurrence at the Roratan Club. It was supposed to be the home of some of the most violent rare items dealers on the planet, which he had told Mando about a jazillion times before leading him there. Obviously the tin can hadn’t listened to him.

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, and Hawke wondered if maybe this was going to be the end. He had never expected to live to his thirteenth birthday, honestly, so dying when he was twelve was probably just his fate. Most kids on his planet didn’t make it. Some old timer in the market had told him that one time, laughing about how he was destined for a short and bitter existence, as he put it. Still, Hawke didn’t want to die. Whether it made sense or not given his upbringing in the orphanage and then on the streets, he had a strong sense of self-preservation and a roaring will to live.

His side was aching. No one was meant to run up this many flights of stairs. Hawke put his head down and kept going, breathing hard. How was the Mandalorian running in all that armor, anyways? Psycho crazy man.

Behind him, Hawke heard metal strike the plascrete stairs as one of the club members leapt up two flights, the servos in her cybertronic legs loudly whirling. She grabbed Mando by the arm and slammed him into the wall, once, twice, until he flung up an arm and blasted her with a wave of fire. Hawke ducked down and covered his face with his arms, feeling the heat from the weapon even through his clothes.

He was quickly jerked up by the collar of his shirt, the Mandalorian pushing him onward. The guy’s armor looked fine, but he was moving sort of funny. Maybe the club member had dislocated his shoulder?

Hawke hurried up the stairs, tearing up toward the roof as fast as he could go, occasionally crouching down and practically climbing the stairs with his hands when the blaster fire got too close. People were yelling behind them in a few different languages, getting louder and rather scream-y when the Mandalorian fired back at them.

It was almost miraculous when the door appeared in front of them, and Hawke collided with it, unwilling to slow down as he scrambled for the handle. The locking device chirped up him, demanding a code that he didn’t have.

“Fix it, do something!” he yelled at Mando, stepping by and gesturing wildly at the device.

The Mandalorian swung around for a second from where he had been shooting at their pursuers and slammed a fist into the passcode input panel. It gave a digital wail and spluttered a few sparks. Relieved, Hawke grabbed the handle and yanked at the door.

“No good!” His voice cracked as he frantically pulled and pulled on the door. “Mando!”

The Mandalorian glanced back at him, grabbed his shoulder, and shoved him down into a crouch. “Stay.” He lifted a communicator to the front of his helmet. “Badr! Take the ship and move to the outskirts of town. It’s too hot here.”

The communicator crackled, and a hesitant, youthful male voice responded. “Um, well, about that. We talked about it while you were out and came up with a new plan. Laili, if you could—”

Hawke yelped as something blazing hot jammed through the door above him, slicing the metal like a knife through Doravian molten fudge. He scurried away from the door, bumping into the back of the Mandalorian’s legs.

The male voice sounded panicked. “Oh man, I was going to say open the door, not slice it to pieces!”

“But it’s broken.” It was a girl’s voice this time, bright and cheerful. “Stand back!”

“Say that before you start stabbing things next time,” the Mandalorian said, sounding exasperated. As the club members closed in on them, he lifted his fire-throwing glove and shot another blaze out of it, forcing them back down the stairs. “Get out of here, Laili!”

“But I’m already most of the way through, and you need us,” the girl, uh, Laili said. She was right, she had already cut a wide arc in the door around the place the lock probably was.

“Us?” Mando demanded.

The super-hot whatever-it-was finished slicing through the door a moment later, and Hawke jumped up and slammed into it, forcing it open.

There was a decent-sized ship hovering precariously over the rooftop, its entryway down. The ramp across the rooftop before the ship lifted a couple feet and bobbled.

Two people were standing outside by the now-open door, a girl holding a long glowing stick and a boy with a metal staff. Both of them looked like they were Hawke’s age or younger, but they weren’t human so it was hard for him to tell. Most of everyone on Tashre was human, so Hawke didn’t have a lot of experience with other lifeforms.

The boy was shorter than the girl, and he had deep teal skin with stripes of lighter green, and instead of hair he had dozens of tendrils that whipped around like they were caught in a wind. The girl was even more striking with three horns springing from either temple and magenta skin that was dotted with yellow, white, and light pink. Her hair was bright yellow and caught up in a bushy ponytail. It was dusk outside, but the blue glowing stick/sword in the girl’s hands lit up her face.

“Us,” the girl said as the Mandalorian stepped through the door. She gestured back and forth between her and the boy like the Mandalorian didn’t understand.

He surged toward the pair of them, slamming his blaster into his holster so he could grab both of them by the arm. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?” His helmet jerked back toward Hawke for a second. “Come on.”

“Adi could feel you were in trouble!” the girl said, letting him drag her along. “And then we could all feel it because you were totally in a _lot_ of trouble, so I’m not sorry about it, you can’t make me feel guilty about this."

“They all made me come,” the boy said.

“And I’m not sorry about that, either!”

“Stop talking and move faster,” Mando growled.

Hawke followed them, more willing to take his chances with this weird lot than the group of cutthroats and thieves downstairs. Speaking of—

“They’re back!” Hawke shouted as the first club member appeared in the doorway, kneeling down and preparing to shoot at them with a massive shoulder-mounted hand-canon.

“Go!” The Mandalorian shoved the boy and girl forward and turned back to snag Hawke’s arm. He pushed him toward the other two before he threw something small and cylindrical back at the doorway as a few of the club members started through it.

“Din!” Laili shrieked.

The force of the bomb knocked Hawke to take a few steps forward or be thrown to the ground. Behind them, the Mandalorian had stumbled, but he was up and moving faster than Hawke would’ve expected.

The boy gave him a hard look as Mando caught up to them. “Are we taking this one, too?”

“For now,” the Mandalorian said, giving both of them a push. “Go, go now.”

“Do we have to pick up every stray in the galaxy?” the boy groaned even as they all ran. “There was that kid on Blaeuin and then the other one last week at Dooin.”

“You were a space-orphan, too, Z,” the girl said.

“No, really, Laili? I forgot.”

The Mandalorian huffed. “Stop. Talking.”

As they closed the gap, another girl appeared, standing at the top of the ramp. She was pale and had loose white hair streaked with pale colors. Something small and green stood next to her, the stubby fingers of one hand outstretched toward them while it held onto the girl’s knee with the other. Hawke felt like something had grabbed him around the torso and suddenly he was yanked forward, his feet off the ground.

The four of them landed in a graceless heap at the top of the ramp, which rapidly closed a moment later as the ship lifted away from the rooftop.

The white-haired girl crouched down next to the Mandalorian, the green squishy big-eared kid in the pale grey robe right beside her. “I hope that the cube was worth getting half-killed over…” Her voice was wry and melodic, and Hawke noticed that her eyes were as silver as the chrome plating on his left leg. She was younger than the other two, maybe eight or so.

The Mandalorian reached out and ruffled her hair even as he stood up. “You can stop worrying now.” He pointed up the green kid, who looked grumpy. "You, too."

The girl sighed. “When we’re off-planet, maybe.”

“Working on it!” a voice called down from an open circular hatch. It was the male voice from the communicator.

“Why don’t you ask us for help?” the blue-skinned boy asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re better trained than this guy.” He gestured a thumb at Hawke.

“You could’ve been killed, Dyn,” Laili said, glowering at the Mandalorian. “Like a real big, the end, that’s all she wrote, never coming back kind of dead!”

The green kid made a grouchy sound of agreement.

The Mandalorian lifted his hands. “No one needed to be in danger—”

Laili threw her hands up to the ceiling. “What exactly do you call all that that you were in?!”

Hawke stayed on the ground as the others got up, arguing with each other. What exactly had he gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

While the crazy group of people he had accidentally fallen in with continued their lively disagreement, Hawke looked around the spaceship. He had never been in ship before. When he was little, he used to sneak out of the orphanage and go to the docks to watch the cargo freighters land and take off. He had never thought that he would actually be in something like that, leaving Tashre far behind. What was he even supposed to do in space? Where were they taking him?

It seemed like they were in a place that used to be a cargo hold, if he had to guess, but it had been retrofitted into a living space. There was a round hologame table in the corner that had spare mechanical parts and a couple datapads scattered across it. The floor was decorated with a few rugs and chalk drawings, and as he looked around, he noticed that the metal walls had chalk sketches on them, too. One hammock was strung across the space from the ceiling, seemingly too high to get into easily, and it looked like another couple bunks were secured against the wall, out of the way.

Across the room, there was some kind of makeshift wall that had been welded into place, and it was painted with a splash of bright colors focused over the door in the middle. Nearby, a panel on the wall had ‘ _Ad’ika’s HideOut_ ’ scrawled across it in dark green marker along with a cartoon version of the green kid’s head.

He was suddenly aware of being flanked, the smaller girl kneeling down to his right and the green kid standing to his left. Warily, he looked at them as they both stared at him.

“What?” he demanded, tucking his left leg up under him, ready to jump up if they attacked him.

The girl gave him a gentle, shy smile. “You don’t have to be scared.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” Hawke said, frowning at her.

She shook her head. “Are too.”

“Am not,” Hawke snapped back.

“Hey, get away from them,” the boy with the head tendrils ordered, taking a step toward Hawke, his boot landing with a heavy warning on the metal floor. He still had his metal staff with him, and Hawke watched it warily.

“They’re the ones that came over here,” Hawke said defensively, leaning away from both of the younglings. He wasn’t going to get in trouble for messing with these kids, especially when it wasn’t his fault that they were bothering him.

“We did,” the girl said, her pastel-streaked hair falling in her face. “He’s not dangerous, he’s scared.”

Hawke growled. “I’m not scared!”

“You don’t know that he’s not going to hurt you.” The boy nudged Hawke’s foot not too softly with the toe of his own boot before reaching down and picking up the green kid. He gestured toward the girl with his free hand, and she slid backward across the floor toward the Mandalorian.

“Calm down, Zethen,” the Mandalorian said firmly. He reached down and picked up the girl. Her clothes were streaked with chalk, and she sighed as she looked down at one of the now-smeared pictures on the floor.

“Aw, now they’re sad,” she said.

“We can redo them later,” the magenta girl said, casting a glare at the boy called Zethen.

Hawke stood up and backed away toward the wall, his gaze flicking around at all of them. Had the blue kid touched the little girl? How had they gotten onto the ship in the first place? They had flown through the air, right? Was that some kind of Mandalorian power?

“He could attack us,” the blue kid, Zethen, said, "He's probably just waiting for the right moment."

“He’s a good kid,” Mando said.

“You’ve only known him for two days,” Zethen scoffed. He set the little green guy down on a cushioned bench beside the hologame table. With ears twitching, the kid climbed up onto the table and watched them all with impossibly big eyes.

“He only knew Badr for like ten minutes before he brought him here, and that worked out great,” the older girl said, the one with the horns and yellow hair. Laili. It was the only name he had actually memorized so far, though no one else had really offered their name.

Zethen rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, you’re not always a good judge of character.” His narrowed gaze slid to the Mandalorian.

“Go help Badr,” the Mandalorian said, seemingly unperturbed by the criticism.

“No, don’t send him up here!” came a voice from the open hatch in the ceiling, near a ladder. “I don’t need grouchy help…”

Zethen scowled and clicked a button on his staff, making it retract into a much smaller rod that he clipped onto his belt. He headed up the ladder even as Badr continued to refuse his help, sparing one final glower for Hawke before he disappeared.

After he was gone, Laili crossed her arms over her chest. “Does this mean we’re going to Nevarro?”

The Mandalorian shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Oh, well, that’s great. You know I love not knowing where we’re going,” Laili said, forcing some fake cheerfulness as the Mandalorian took off his rifle and went over to a locker against the wall. He toggled a switch and the doors opened, revealing a plethora of weapons. More weapons followed the rifle into the locker before he closed it again, tapping in a code to lock it.

“If you give me a few minutes to think, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“I also love the word maybe. It’s my favorite!”

Mando gave an extremely long sigh. “Laili…”

“Are you guys going to take me back to Tashre?” Hawke said, getting to his feet.

“Did you want to go back?” Laili asked. She fluffed her hair out with both hands and dropped down onto the bench the green kid had been on. Reaching out, she poked the green one in the side, and the kid made a giggling noise and pushed her hand away.

“I don’t know,” Hawke said. “I don’t…what’s going on?”

The ship shook violently, and Hawke had to grab onto a piece of the wall. The white-haired girl nearly lost her balance, but the Mandalorian caught and steadied her, while Laili held onto the green kid’s arm. There was a commotion from the hatch, a series of beeping sounds and alarm wails.

“Uh, Din,” Badr’s voice called, “We have three ships on our tail!”

“Your new friends are mad,” Zethen added.

The Mandalorian gently but quickly pushed the younger girl toward Laili and headed up the ladder. Lasers began to fire, and the ship twisted and turned, shaking periodically.

“It’s not always this exciting,” Laili said with a grin as Hawke clung to a bit of piping, “If you’re wondering. I meant, it's not always not exciting either. It's a mixed bag, really.”

He hadn’t been wondering, and he didn’t appreciate her casual tone. The smaller kids didn’t look particularly worried either, with the green one holding onto the table and the littler girl sitting peacefully under the same table.

“Brace yourselves!” Badr shouted from the cockpit and the ship abruptly jumped forward, plastering Hawke to the wall. After a few moments, everything seemed calm except for a weird sensation Hawke couldn’t shake. It was like he was moving forward yet staying in place at the same time, and he wasn’t a fan of the feeling.

“Hey, why don’t you go get the healer’s kit for Din, okay?” Laili said, bending over so she could peek under the table. The smaller girl gave her a thumbs up and climbed to her feet, skipping along the ship to the back room. Laili got up and stretched. “You can let go of the pipes, new kid. Don’t want you to break the Razor, she’s old.”

Mando’s voice came from the open hatch, sharp and offended. “She is not that old.”

“She is, too, but she’s a sweet old girl,” Laili said loudly, patting the side of the ship.

“Don’t tease her, Laili, she’s sensitive,” Badr said in almost the same tone as the Mandalorian’s. “And now she’s got a couple nice new holes in her…”

Laili turned toward Hawke as he gingerly released the pipe. “I’m guessing you have a name, right?”

He roughly nodded, feeling disoriented, dizzy, and mildly nauseated. Whatever the ship was doing now felt weird, though it didn’t seem like they were being shot at anymore. “Hawke.”

“Just Hawke?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. On the tabletop, the green kid mimicked her.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Hawke snapped.

Laili held up her hands. “No, not really. Just asking a question.” She pointed to herself. “I’m Laili Ontara, and this is Adi.” She gestured to the green kid, who held up a stubby three-fingered hand. “And you’re on the Razor Crest!” Spreading out both arms, she showed off the ship as if it was a magnificent thing to behold.

“Okay…” Hawke put a hand to his temple.

“I know you probably have like six million questions, but if you do want to go back to Tashre, we can take you there,” Laili said. “Just not for a little while. A month or two from now should work. Or next year…”

Hawke sat down on the floor again. Next year? Did he even want to go back? “So you’re not slavers or anything.”

“Basically the exact opposite,” Laili said quickly, “We’re all really super against that, especially Zethen, he’s—well, he hates that kind of stuff.”

“That’s the angry one, right?”

Laili smirked. “Yeah, the Mikkian boy.”

“Do you all work for the Mandalorian?” They seemed really young, but what did he know about space crews? Maybe kids were the best crew you could ask for, but that seemed like bantha crap to him.

Laili laughed. "Not really."

“Then what exactly is all this?”

The little pale-haired girl stepped out from the back room, holding a big plasticel case. “Why can’t Adi heal Din?”

“Because he’s already tired,” Laili said, her eyes flicking from the girl to Hawke and back again. On the table, the green kid, Adi, frowned. Laili made a face right back at him. “Oh, don’t you start, too. Hawke, this is Eos. Eos, meet Hawke.”

Eos looked at him and gave a tiny smile. “Hi…”

Hawke took a deep breath, trying to push aside the dizziness that was climbing across his skull. “Hey.” He narrowed his eyes at Laili, the one with the answers. “I wanna know what’s going on.”

She looked back at him curiously. “Are you feeling okay? You almost look the same shade as Adi. You don’t get lightspeed-head, do you?”

“No,” he snapped defensively. He didn’t even know what that was, and whatever it was, he wasn’t weak like that.

“It’s okay if you do, it happens sometimes,” Laili said, “It’s sort of rare…”

“I’m fine,” he said, beads of sweat breaking out over his forehead.

“Lying isn’t very nice,” Eos said softly, looking at him with big silver eyes.

“Kidnapping people ain’t nice either,” he growled back.

“We saved your life!” Laili said with an incredulous laugh, her hands on her hips. “You could at least be a little grateful—”

Hawke wasn’t exactly sure what she said next since he was slumping down the wall, his vision swimming, the interior of the ship swirling into darkness as the dizziness finally won out.


End file.
